


Get Rid of the Good Times

by The_Fanfic_Mormon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (not good ones), Alternate Universes, Angst, Bad Puns, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Science, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Murder on a really big scale, Post-Canon, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, References to Depression, SOUL Mechanics (Undertale), Sarcasm, There might not be a happy ending to this one, Timeline Shenanigans, Undertale Saves and Resets, losing hope, seriously, tense conversations, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-10-18 16:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fanfic_Mormon/pseuds/The_Fanfic_Mormon
Summary: After a while on the surface, the monster race wakes up to the Underground one day. To put it shortly, it sucks.In which the horribleness of a post-pacifist reset are explored, one where EVERYONE remembers.Edit: Due to the feedback among a small yet interested group of readers, I'm going to tack on a second part as another chapter.





	1. It's All Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there, new fandom! I got into Undertale like two months ago, and fell in love with the wonderful game. The online fandom, however, is, uh, interesting to say the least. Fontcest, the Chara Defense Squad or whatever ridiculous name they've taken, and a boatload of AUs varying from intriguing to really crappy are some of the notable discoveries. Nonetheless, I've decided to make a contribution. As one can tell by my other work, I like writing about people being miserable. So why not ruin the perfect pacifist ending? This is my first time doing this game, so the way I write these characters probably sucks. Try to enjoy, I guess. There are several references to panic attacks, depression and suicide, so be careful.

Sans peels open a groggy eye, then immediately shuts it with a soft groan. He doesn’t want to get up. He _reeeaaaaallly_ doesn’t want to get up. Movie night with the whole gang had been a tradition for the five years they’d been on the surface. For whatever reason, Alphys had brought over a full DVD-set of some anime. Who could’ve predicted that they’d be up until four in the morning drooling over the adventures of some quirky cartoon girl?

So when Sans says to himself that he doesn’t want to get up, by god does he mean it. Sleep is a rare thing for him, even on calm days, even when his nights aren’t plagued by dreams. Then he notices something... odd. The mattress under him is almost familiar. Which is strange. No matter what day it was, he has never gotten used to the surface. No matter what bed, it has never carried the horrible nostalgia that anything the Underground carried. This does.

At the realization, his eyes snap open, previous grogginess forgotten. He looks up to see a sickly familiar ceiling, one he thought that he’d never have to see again.

No. No it can’t be. He’s dreaming. He’s hallucinating. It isn’t real. It isn’t. It can’t be. The kid promised. Frisk promised –they said they’d- but they’d _promised_.

It can’t be true.

But it is, he slowly realizes. There’s the trash vortex, the treadmill, the scattered socks… he’s in the Underground. On the day of a reset. The kid reset. They reset. They fucking did it. Restarted everything. Reversed _five goddamn years_ of surface life.

They were happy. Papyrus-oh god Papyrus was happy. Undyne. Alphys. Toriel. Asgore. Mettaton. Grillby. Monster Kid. Everyone. It’s all gone.

He sits there, staring at nothing in particular. A thousand different urges pull at him. Part of him wants to summon his Blasters, to wreck everything. To let loose his true power, and let the sheer rage obliterate Snowdin. Another part of him wants to lie down and cry, just soak in misery. The OTHER other part of him sounds mighty persuasive right now. Walking off of the Snowdin Bridge would bring him some measure of relief, at least until the next damn reset.

But his brother… he can’t do that to his brother. He can’t. Speaking of, around this time Paps would come bursting in telling him not to be a lazybones. So _something_ has changed in this version.

Trembling, he opens his door, staring into the dark house. What was the point of stepping outside? What would he gain besides experiences lived through a dozen times over? Then again, there was little point in holing up in his room instead. Everything was pointless, so leaving his room is just one useless option out of many.

As he tentatively steps out into the hall, he picks up a faint sound. A wet hiccupping noise. Crying. He opens the door to his brother’s room, and finds a sight that almost makes his eye go blue. His joyous, optimistic little bro is sobbing in his race-car bed. Messy, fat tears. Impossibly sniffling, lack of nostrils and all.

“paps…”

Papyrus raises a wet skull to meet his brother’s eyes.

“IS THIS… AM I HAVING A NIGHTMARE, SANS? THIS IS A DREAM, RIGHT?”

The hopefulness in the tall skeleton’s voice nearly brings Sans to ruin right there. He hates himself for having to be the one to crash those last hopes into the ground.

“…………no.”

Sans takes a big breath, then plows on, eyes glued to floor.

“remember the resets the kid and i told you about?”

Papyrus begins to shake his head, a frantic desperate motion.

“NO…NO! FRISK WOULD NEVER-THEY WERE HAP-THE HUMAN ISN’T…”

Sans watches the spark of hope extinguish as his brother fully comprehends what happened. For some reason, his brother fully remembers the previous timeline. The detached, clinical part of his mind is taking notes, fascinated as the rest of him screams at it to shut up.

“…I BELIEVED IN THEM…”

“WHY…?”

The shorter brother doesn’t have a good answer. On that thought, he feels something begin to bubble. A primal ferocity, a vengeful desire, an angry sort of…DETERMINATION. Not enough to mask Frisk’s. But it’s there.

It’s then that he hears a commotion outside. Teleporting to the usually inaccessible balcony, he looks down to see pure confusion. Monsters are milling around in a sort of dazed panic, a desperate refusal of the situation they’d awoken to.

Huh. _Everyone_ remembers. This- well this is completely new. Grillby is panicking below, his flames flaring high in confused despair. Monster Kid is crying next to one of the igloos. Scarf Mouse and Red Devil are shouting at each other at the top of their lungs, and Jimmy Hotpants is sitting on a piece of ice, staring at the roof of the Underground forlornly. Big Mouth is sucking down alcohol, sitting drunkenly under the town Christmas tree, while several Ice Caps mutter to each other near the tree line.

Warping to the top of the house, the scene is much the same no matter which way he looks in Snowdin. The door blocks the Ruins, and mist Waterfall, so Sans can only imagine how the rest of the Underground is reacting. The Royal Guard is nowhere to be found.

Sans runs a few quick plans through his mind, ignoring the vortex of emotion swirling within. Papyrus… needs to get up. He can’t bear to let his brother hole himself up; he knows from plenty of experience that it isn’t a great idea. He’ll visit the Ruins first, swing by to get Tori, then gather the others on the way to the Capital. No telling where the kid is. Letting out a long sigh, Sans runs a bony hand over his skull. This is not going to be a good day.

 

* * *

 

 

The second Undyne reached her hand over to find an empty bed, she realized something was wrong immediately. Alphys _never_ got up before her. Ever. Jolting out of bed, she turned to exit their room. Only to find that not only is there not a door, the room is much smaller. And identical to her room in the Underground to a tee. Slamming open the door revealed that she in fact was in her old house, and thusly back Underground. The fish-monster had taken about a minute to process this, staring with her good eye at the giant sword that lay on a shelf.

Then she had flipped out, violently smashing everything in her house. Volleys of spears took down walls, appliances, furniture, everything that stood in their path.

Currently, she was watching her house slowly collapse, section by section giving way to spear-caused damage. Her eyepatch was hastily applied, and she was still in a tank-top and lounge pants. But that hardly mattered.

She was back. Everything was back. Monsters were back Underground. This statement was nigh-incomprehensible to her mind. It simply couldn’t be possible. How? How could any of this have happened?

Mind filling with questions, she turns slowly and begins to walk out to the open area nearby. In a semi-aware state, she plods along, hardly noticing the confused Woshuas and Aarons that are bustling around in panic. Making at a slow pace, she manages to get to the caverns where Gerson would set up shop. The old turtle had always stayed open no matter what. A telling sign it was, that the entrance to his shop had been barricaded off.

Sliding down next to the doorway, she lets her head sink into her hands. Hot, messy tears pool in the borders of her vision. They were trapped. Again. For whatever cruel reason, it had been…reset. The clock had been turned back.

But she could remember. She could _remember_ the surface. The pleasant sun, warming her scales. The breeze caressing her hair in such a unique way, so different then the drafts of air that would blow through Waterfall. The rain, and how each drop was a lovely pinprick of cold and wet, how it would run down her body in a soothing display of nature’s power. It was there… she _knew_ that had all happened. Getting a girlfriend, a house, a job, making friends with a few humans, discovering the glory that was the internet. And now it had never happened, no matter how vivid her memories might be.

“Um, Ms. Undyne?”

A melodious voice reverberates from besides her. Slowly taking her hands off of her tear-stained face, she looks up to see Shyren and her agent.

“What’s going on? We were so confused……are we in hell, Ms. Undyne?”

“I don’t know, guys. I just don’t know.” God, she’s useless right now. If Alphys was here, she’d know what was- “SHIT, ALPHYS!”

“What’s wrong?” Shyren sings, but Undyne is gone by then.

 

* * *

 

Alphys was actively trying to ignore the mental breakdown she could feel coming. Not the time. She’d lose her mind later.

“Damn it, damn it, where’s the kibble…” She frantically searches through the cabinets in the lab, trying to find some food that wasn’t ramen.

She’d woken up with a massive headache. And in her old lab. Her head swimming, she had ran over to the camera system. Flicking through monitors, she realized she didn’t understand the scope of the issue. The entire monster race had been transported back to the Underground. Not only that, time had seemingly turned back to…

She’d cursed loudly when she saw the date. It was the day Frisk had fallen from Mount Ebbot. So they could reset. They had enough DETERMINTION to actually go back in time a full five years, resetting not only the monsters but the entire damn universe as well. The implications were astounding. How many resets had they all lived through? Why did she remember this one? Did longer duration in a particular timeline mean increased retention of it?

It was then that the Amalgamates had decided to go berserk. As Alphys scurries around, grabbing small packages of food from here and there, they only increase in volume. She runs into the disguised bathroom, mashing down the button for the true lab. As the shuddery elevator slowly descends, the yellow lizard taps her foot anxiously against the floor. The Barrier would have to be broken. Again. They’d have to integrate into the outside world, slowly and painfully. Again. And that’s if the angry mob of monsters gathering in Snowdin didn’t realize exactly what had happened and kill Frisk first.

Would it even matter? They’d just be reset again and again, never being able to have the peace of a stable timeline. As the elevator slows to a stop, she brushes her thoughts aside. The Amalgamates are all waiting for her as the doors open. Except none of them look particularly well, even for the horrifying combinations that they are. Endogeny is whimpering, the white sludge on their back shifting around like water going down a drain. Reaper Bird’s muttering to itself furiously, all three voices panicking at once. Lemon Bread’s teeth are chattering, while her body oozes rapidly in a messy cycle. Poor Mrs. Drake is crying…? Or whimpering while secreting half-formed vegetables from her eyes. Alphys can’t tell. And the Memoryheads are the most active she’s ever seen them, glitching and convulsing in the air as if in pain. They all seemed to be in pain.

They did have DT. They were more attuned to time-space than the average monster. Could this have hurt them, somehow? A reset of that magnitude? As she doles out food, which seems to calm them down a little, she can only hope they’ll get better with time.

She turns to leave, then stops suddenly. Actually…everyone already knew they existed. Everyone remembered. No point in keeping them cooped up down here.

“Come on guys. I’ll take you upstairs.” The Amalgamates hesitantly move into the elevator, while she slowly herds them in. When the doors open up tpop, they all shoot out of the car, zipping around the area with surprising speed.

Trying to ignore the goop that’s being tracked everywhere, Alphys is suddenly hit with a realization.

“Undyne! Oh my god, Undyne! I-I totally forgot about her! O-oh no, no, no…”

As the panic rises within her, threatening to spill out, the door to the lab is slammed open. Undyne bursts into the room, tears streaming down her face.

“ALPHYS!” “OHMYGODI’MSOSORRYIDIDN’TCOMESOONI’MATERRIBLEGIRLFRIENDPLEASEFORGIVE-“

Undyne’s knees give out, and she collapses into the shorter monster’s arms.

Alphys slowly rubs the small of her back, letting Undyne sob and worry and apologize. She wants to join her girlfriend in the display, desperately wants to cry and scream and let it all out. But in the moment, she serves as a support pillar, a way to let Undyne get the misery out of her system. She’ll get her release later, she thinks.

A much calmer Undyne suddenly gives her a tight hug, and the scientist ignores the fact that she can’t breathe in favor of the love behind the crushing gesture.

Putting Alphys down and briefly glancing at the now-calm Amalgamates, the fish monster lets out a shaky sigh.

“Alphys…what do we do?”

The scientist lets her eyes fall to the floor.

“Well, um…”

She takes a second to compose herself, then launches into the best explanation she can manage.

“There’s this quality i-in humans, DETERMINATION…If a human possesses sufficient DETERMINATION, they c-can bend time, and, uh, space, to their will.”

Undyne’s eye goes wide at this.

“S-so a human could…um, could totally rewind time if they were determined eno-“

“F R I S K.” the warrior growls out, her face contorting into a ferocity that surprises even Alphys.

“I SWEAR…I swear…swear…” The anger slowly drains from her face. “….why?”

“Why would they…they…do this?” She rubs the skin above her eyepatch, face falling into a confused frown. “Were we not good enough? Did…they ever even care?”

Alphys runs the question through her head a couple times. Did the human care? They spared everyone, went on dates, helped break the barrier, assisted the monsters in five long years of establishing themselves, of maintaining peace, of having family dinners and game nights and walks in the park…did it ever mean anything, if in the blink of an eye they were willing to take it all away?

“heya, Alph.”

Alphys lets out a shriek of surprise as Sans, Toriel, Mettaton, and Papyrus teleport into the lab. Papyrus looks miserable, Sans doesn’t look like he feels anything, Mettaton somehow looks nervous despite lacking a face, and the Queen looks… oh god the Queen. Tears are staining the matted fur beneath her eyes, and her hands are clenched so tightly that a small amount of dust is caking her claws.

“you look…chilled to the bone. heh.” It’s an old pun, and not particularly funny. Sans looks like he’s only going through the motions. Papyrus doesn’t even look miffed.

“Alphys, darling…Sans told us about the reset situation.” Mettaton says, rocking back and forth on his wheel.  “We have decided, uh, to get some of the major players together, if you catch my drift.” His synthesized voice lacked its usual flare.

“yup. the robot’s right. the king is next. guess you could say we’re getting the hus- _band_ back together.” With a wink towards Toriel. A small morose smile slips on to her face, but still not a word slips out. No one seems to be particularly amused.

“Ye-yeah, th-that’s a good idea.” Alphys stutters out, as her hands begin to wring anxiously. The Amalgamates look content, and they seem to have entered whatever rest cycle comes naturally to them.

“welp. lets go then.” Sans looks tired, tired of life itself. Alphys knows that look. As a flash of blue surrounds them all, she desperately hopes against all hope that this could be a bad dream.

 

* * *

 

 

Asgore is stewing. When he woke up, the first indication that anything was wrong was the whispers. The souls were whispering to him. It was a sound he’d fallen asleep to for centuries. To suddenly be denied that perverse lullaby for half a decade was only of the many remarkable things that had occurred recently. He’d nary a moment of rest from the minute Frisk broke the barrier. Obviously a child could not be an ambassador, he had realized quickly. The humans had a political system so ridiculously stuffed with bureaucracy that even he had some difficulty wrapping his head around it. Yet he regretted none of it. Even if the battle for his people’s freedom had taken a ridiculously long time. Even if Tori was still cold to him. It was worth it, to see the joy on a monster’s face anytime they saw the sun, to wake up to his garden every day.

So finding himself back in his castle is…distressing, to say the least. It’s taking all he’s got to prevent himself from yelling in rage. What cruel deity allowed this to happen? What sense of justice in the universe was there if something this horrible could occur?

His emotional state, however much of a wreck it’s in, is compounded by the state of the kingdom. Total chaos. The rioting is unstoppable, and most of the Royal Guard in New Home are either too dispersed or too shocked to be effective. People are panicking, rightfully so.

No one was answering his calls. The human was nowhere to be found. He had no idea if the CORE was staffed, if the rest of the Underground was stable, or what was even happening. His head is swimming. His breathing is growing erratic, and he can barely stay upright. The world is closing in.

So he barely notices the flash of blue light behind him.

“A-asgore? Are-are you alright?” The stuttering reedy voice of the Royal Scientist reaches his ears, briefly suspending the incoming panic attack.

He lets out a large breath, then turns around. To his surprise, not only is Alphys here, but Sans, his brother, Undyne, Mettaton, and-

“Toriel…” He murmurs, and he can’t believe how utterly disheveled and pained she looks. It’s etched into the faces of everyone, but on her, it looks as if she wants to just fall to the floor and lie there.

She winces at the sound of her name and turns her eyes downward, firmly refusing to make eye contact. He doesn’t blame her.

“so. we _goat_ everyone in one place.” Sans has his usual smile, but it’s as if the skeleton is forcing himself to tell the joke. It’s not as natural, and it feels jarring in context.

“So, uh, where do we go from here?” Undyne looks so lost, and he cannot help but for a moment to see the little girl that he helped train, desperate and afraid.

“well first, we explain the resets.”

And they do. They tell him about determination, about rewinding time, about how the ability was used by humans, about how Frisk-

“No.”

“Asgore, I had a hard time with this as well, but it appears our little superstar...” Mettaton pauses, as if trying to wrap his currently non-existent head around it, “may be a little less virtuous than previously thought.”

“I refuse to accept that!” He feels like shouting, he’s so angry. “Frisk was never anything but courteous and loving. It cannot be that they would discard the happiness of the entire monster race. It is not reasonable to assign this phenomenon to them!”

He desperately looks around, but no one seems to support this. No one even looks hopeful. They all look…broken. They truly believe that Frisk did this. Even Toriel keeps her mouth clamped shut, although her eyes speak volumes.

“It… it cannot be…” His voice cracks as tears began to well up. “They wouldn’t…that doesn’t…it can’t…” He trails off. What can he say? There is no other answer for what happened.

“I WONDER…” Papyrus speaks up, for the first time. The tall skeleton turns his skull towards the view of New Home, looking out over the hordes of monsters running amuck in the streets. “I WONDER IF THE HUMAN EVER BELIEVED IN US. LIKE WE BELIEVED IN THEM.”

The question obviously strikes a nerve in everyone, by the way they all flinch back at it.

“That doesn’t matter now, Paps!” Undyne shouts, seeming to regain some of her previous flare. “We have to figure out where to go from here, and punch those crappy feelings right in the throat. NO WALLOWING IN THE PAST!” There’s a spark in her eye, but the look on her face makes it debatable how much of the sentiment is for Papyrus, and how much is to try and convince herself. Asgore’s face falls, and he wraps a heavy arm around the warrior’s shoulders.

“Exactly, my dear,” and he forces himself to muster as much optimism as possible, “and once we quell the rest of the Underground, perhaps we can get to work in finding a course of action.”

Toriel wordless nods in agreement, and thus their future is sealed.

 

* * *

 

To Sans’ surprise, everything goes semi-smoothly. Probably because everyone is trying to distract themselves from the hellish situation they’re currently in. Undyne rallies the Royal Guard, and gets the Capital under control. Mettaton and Alphys get on TV, and make a statement saying that while what is happening is unclear, it is prudent to stay calm and help each other. Toriel goes back to the Ruins to communicate the message to the monsters there. The rest gather at Alphys’ lab, waiting for the others to get back.

Asgore is…not taking this well. Sans knows how to read pain better than any other emotion. Tori won’t talk to him-or anyone for that matter-, and this is seriously wearing him down. The seeming betrayal by the human he considered a third child obviously isn’t helping.

He won’t pretend to understand the pain of losing any children, much less three. But everyone is grieving in their own way, mourning a life lost. They have a meeting scheduled soon, and no one really wants to interact with each other before that point. The intense feelings that everyone’s experiencing are best kept to themselves. So he teleports around, observing the Underground.

The monsters in the Ruins have come together, and are currently staying in Toriel’s house. The spiders there are migrating to Hotland, to meet with their Queen. Somehow, they found the heated limo used in the last timeline. Speaking of Muffet, he was surprised to find that her abode had been sealed under large masses of web. He could teleport in there, but he’ll leave her be.

Greater Dog, once it calmed down, went and deactivated all the traps in Snowdin. Snowdin Town proper had calmed down somewhat. The mob that’d formed had only managed to damage the entrance sign before the rest of the Royal Guard forced them to disperse. They’d all managed to crowd into Grillby’s, much to the fire elementals’ added distress. No one was happy, but then again, no one was destroying property. Sans finds it hard to care either way.

The denizens of Waterfall had also come together, this time in front of a confused Napstablook’s house. Sans has no idea what the spectral DJ thinks of their situation. Yet another thing that doesn’t matter. Papyrus would yell at him for that sentiment. If Papyrus was in any mood to actually be optimistic. There had to be a limit to his brother’s positivity, and he supposes they had probably reached it.

As he warps around Hotland, his mind drifts back to a topic he’d been desperately trying to avoid. The kid. Frisk

Sans’ feelings towards Frisk are… complicated, to say the least. The bits of him that are raging are subdued for now, hastily pushed to the edge of his thoughts. His despair has also been relegated away. Falling to either right now won’t help anyone. A good percentage of his mind is devoted to sorting through his questions. The primary question was why the kid reset. He knows that the peaceful run they got was pretty unique. Looking at notes from other versions of him, versions before the SAVE file was totally wiped clean, Frisk hadn’t always been benevolent.

They had gone through dozens, possibly even hundreds of runs. Experimenting, it seemed. Killing only this monster, or not befriending that monster, or sometimes just killing everyone. Literally finding every possibility. Some of the darker runs, the other Sans had noted, involved a sort of possession, by the essence or spirit of the first fallen child.

But there’s no trace of the kid anywhere. There’s been no reports of any human, much less one that’s dusting monsters. What had triggered the damn reset? Does Chara play a part in this? And why does everyone remember?

Nothing about this felt right.

Looking down from the top of the MTT Resort, he can’t help but take a shuddering breath. This whole damned situation was tortuous in the worst way. He can see in the distance the rectangular form of Mettaton, and Alphys beside him, probably walking to her lab for the meeting. Alphys, ironically, seems to be the least broken. Maybe because of her knowledge of resets, maybe because of her previous issues. Either way, he’s grateful. Sans has never been much of a leader.

It’s then that he spots something that makes his eyes go dark. Near the entrance to the CORE, a small, yellow…f l o w e r. It ain’t the kid, but close enough, he thinks as he teleports.

“hey there, pal.” He says, eyes black as night. Flowey shrieks and swivels around, calming down quickly upon seeing who it is.

“What do you _want_ , trash-bag?” the plant hisses, face contorting into a scowl.

“whoa there. sounds like i’m the _root_ of your anger.”

Flowey’s eyes go white with fury.

“You’re joking around at a time like _this_?!? Are you just. THAT STUPID?!?” Flowey’s teeth are furiously gritted, and the contempt on his face is clearer than day.

“maybe. but luckily I got a pal like you to chloro- _fill_ me in.”

The flower lets out a growl, but his face falls. The scowl relaxes into a resigned frown.

“I forgot this is just how you are. What the hell do you want from me anyway?”

Sans lets his eyes lighten up, then slowly sits himself down next to Flowey.

“you were the only thing that could reset before frisk fell. you have the best memory of the timelines out of everyone here. give me the inside scoop on how one goes about resetting.”

Flowey scrunches up his face, as if not expecting a legitimate question. “Well…resetting is always intentional. No way of doing it accidentally.”

Welp. There it is. He’s not surprised, but by god it’s still a hard meal to swallow. Despite his inner turmoil, all he lets out is a “…huh.”

“As for why Frisk reset? Impossible to say. It could’ve been Cha-the first human’s essence, but…”

“but then we’d see them cutting down swaths of monsters, if your pal _chara_ had that level of control.”

The flower flinches at this.

“Well…maybe there’s a struggle. Or they convinced Frisk to reset somehow. If they went through all that work for a pacifist run, befriended you idiots, then lived in their happily ever after on the surface for that long…would it really be like Frisk to reset?”

Sans chuckles for a few seconds, no humor in his voice. “pal? i don’t think i know a thing about frisk.”

Flowey raises a non-existent eyebrow at this. The skeleton shrugs before continuing.

“i saw what you said to them, about not resetting because of everyone being happy. thanks.”

The flower’s jaw drops open. “What.”

“thanks. you advocated for our happiness, even if it didn’t matter in the end.”

“In all of the hundreds of timelines I’ve experienced, that is the first decent thing you’ve said to me, trash-bag.”

“hey. i’m not all bad to the bone.”

As Flowey squirms in annoyance, Sans gets up to leave.

“i got a favor to ask of you. see if you can find the kid. if you do, uh, incapacitate them, then get me.”

Flowey adopts a maniacal grin.

“Oh, I assume you’ll give them a bad time?” He lets out a giggle. “See you around, Sans.”

The flower disappears underground. The skeleton stares for a few seconds.

“jeez asriel. what are we going to do with you.”

He disappears in a flash of blue.

 

* * *

 

Sans gets there last, surprising no one. Even in a damn crisis, he manages to be lazy. Undyne supposes that she ought to yell at him, but she really just doesn’t have it in her right now. They’re all crowded around Alphys’ workbench, blueprints and tools cleared off.

“Well then,” she says, voice harsh in the silent room, “we’re all here.”

Mettaton lets out an electronic sigh. “The public seem to be…passive for now. But darlings, we need to discuss the, uh, human issue.”

“Way to be subtle, asshole.” She shoots back. Everyone’s a little on edge here, so why does he need to just bring it up like that?

“hey now, no need to get angry.” Sans says calmly. “we do need to talk about it.”

“I think our first matter regarding Frisk should be to find where they are.” Asgore is tentative, to the point of almost whispering as he eyes Toriel.

“i have my best agent on it.” There’s no mirth in the small skeleton’s voice, and she can only imagine who he thinks of as “his best agent.”

 “I HAVE A QUESTION. HOW ARE WE GOING TO BREAK THE BARRIER AGAIN?”

Papyrus breaks his solemn silence once more. She’s sort of relieved, in that at least he’s trying to solve a problem.

“IF FRISK…RESET, DOES THAT MEAN THAT THEY WON’T ASSIST US IN THIS TASK?”

“I don’t th-think we should focus-“Alphys began, before Mettaton pipes up again.

“The skeleton brings up a good point. We have no guarantee that our little darling will want to help us this time around.”

“I hate to say, Alph, but…but I agree with them. We have to figure out how to bring down the barrier. But if they can just reset, what can we even do?” she says, glancing apologetically at her girlfriend. This needs to be addressed now. Make a preemptive strike before Frisk can change anything else.

“Could we perhaps use the human souls to our favor? I doubt they are all too happy to be back, and would readily assist us. Perhaps we can utilize the souls of all monsters and the six to tear own the Barrier yet again.” Asgore looks hesitant at his own proposal. She doesn’t blame him. Absorbing that many souls is a terrible burden, one he thought he left behind.

“BUT DON’T WE NEED A WAY TO PREVENT A RESET? HOW DO WE DO THAT WITHOUT...WITHOUT…”

“taking their soul? why not?”

Several things happen at once. Asgore sucks in a sharp breath, while Mettaton and Alphys start bickering over the plan’s morality. Papyrus starts to try and lecture Sans, only for Toriel to slam her hands on the table.

“We are NOT harming them. Ever.” Toriel’s eyes are ablaze, literally. The table beneath her fingers is beginning to smolder.

“Whoa, whoa, alright. Let’s all chill out.” Undyne says calmly, slowly removing the Queen’s hands from the table. “We’re obviously not-“

“why not? what’s the big deal? if they’re willing to do this, to refuse happiness to everyone…”

“w h y  s h o u l d n’ t  t h e y  s u f f e r ?”

The shorter skeleton’s eyes suddenly go pitch-black, causing Undyne to swear. She’s only ever seen this reaction once, when a human threatened Papyrus. She has no idea what Sans can do. But she really doesn’t want to find out. Toriel is already on her feet, ready to yell, but Papyrus beats her to the punch.

“SANS…PLEASE. STOP. HURTING FRISK ISN’T THE WAY WE NEED TO DO THIS! HOW DOES THAT MAKE US ANY BETTER THAN THEM? WE CAN DO THIS PEACEFULLY!”

Sans takes a few breaths, letting his pupils slowly fade into sight.

“…yeah. sure.”

Alphys and Mettaton stop their bickering, and turn to face the rest of the group as Toriel lets out a sigh and sits down next to a wide-eyed Asgore. Her girlfriend has a certain face, the one she gets when she has an idea. As the others fall silent, the scientist stands up.

Undyne gives her a glance of reassurance, a look that means everything. Alphys clears her throat.

“W-well, um, there might b-be a way to do that. The way I created the, um, the Amalgamates was using DETERMINATION. And i-it’s also used for resets. I could use the DT extractor to remove Fri-the human’s determination. So t-that they can’t ever reset.”

“Could they not regenerate their determination? And will this removal not harm Frisk?” Toriel tentatively asks. Undyne can’t help but get frustrated at her concern. If Frisk didn’t give a shit about their happiness, why should they give a shit about Frisk’s discomfort? If a small amount of pain is needed, what’s the big deal? It’s not like they had a problem betraying them before. As if the cooked meals, or the anime watched, or the arm wrestling, as if anything her and Frisk did together mattered.

She can feel her eye tearing up, and wipes it away as quick as she can as Alphys continues.

“T-they might regenerate their d-determination. But I c-could sync a sort of tracker that monitors their DT level. If it gets too high, then we could extract it again. But as to w-whether it would hurt…I d-don’t know. It didn’t hurt the other souls…but they didn’t have b-bodies.”

“It is a risk we may have to take.” Asgore says with resolution. “Hopefully, Frisk will agree to this proposal, and let their better nature show.” Sans snorts, then looks away as Toriel glares. Undyne can’t blame him.

“Well then,” Asgore mutters, “I must go and prepare myself. Someone notify me, please, when Frisk is contacted.”

He exits in a defeated manner. She understands. This was a defeat, He has to now do one of the most difficult things in his long life, something he thought he’d never have to do.

“well then. i guess we all better look for the kid.” Sans shrugs, before walking over to Papyrus.

“ARE WE SURE ABOUT THIS PLAN?” The taller skeleton is hesitating because of course he is, the big-hearted softie that he is.

“no.” and the brothers disappear in a flash of blue.

“Well enough with the melodramatics. I have a network to run, monsters to reassure.” Mettaton rolls out of the lab, usual flourish forgotten.

Toriel departs wordlessly, leaving with a desperate look and nothing more.

Leaving her and her girlfriend to contemplate the silence.

“…what are we supposed to do, Alph? Is this really what we have to do?”

“I-I don’t know. I t-think we have to.”

 

 

“D-do we really have any other choice?”  


	2. A Mangled Knot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Never thought I'd make a sequel to what was supposed to be a one-off, but it accrued a small but particularly vocal group of supporters that encouraged me to churn this out. Thank you all so much! I added significantly more plot to this one, in contrast to the character introspective and interactions of the first. I enjoy writing from Asgore's perspective a lot, and excuse the last bit for being dialogue heavy. Kudos and comments are appreciated.

There were several types of silences. There was the silence before laughter, that heralded a reaction after a joke. There was the silence of contentedness, of mourning, of hope.

Asgore has heard this silence before. This is the silence of misery, of a beleaguered people worn down by tragedy, that relentless predator that keeps taking and taking until there is only a shadow of what was left.

First a war. Than the loss of two children. Than a slow build-up of hope culminating in the barrier shattering, with monsterkind getting a new savior. And now they are back to where they started. He has ruled them through it all. The only notable thing about his tenure as monarch seems to be that it is punctuated by disaster.

He shifts uncomfortably in his suddenly heavy armor. What he is about to do… he had resigned himself to misery previously, hoping no human would fall. Now, he has to bear the consequences of his actions. It seems that even time itself cannot forestall justice.

Asgore gazes out from the balcony, looking down upon his entire race. He clears his throat.

“I know what we have experienced has been unbearable. It pains me that I cannot unburden you of your pain. But I will have to ask you to endure.”

He pauses, and the crowd does not respond at all.

“I will have to absorb the six human souls, as well as all of yours, to break the barrier again. We cannot continue to suffer in squalor, even after all we have been through.”

Even now they are all silent. Thousands of eyes stare at him, all seemingly devoid of feeling. He is not blind to what they will have to go through. Already, he has read reports from the Guard of monsters who lost the will to live. The breaking of the barrier would mean nothing to a people who would now live in perpetual fear of everything being taken away all over again.

He closes his eyes, and inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry.”

With a thought, he summons his trident. Whirling his arms, he can feel it break through six glass containers, one after the other.

This is it. The souls are emanating warmth, yet it comforts him not.

There is a rush, like falling off of a cliff. Then there is _power_ , so much pure energy that his mind reels in trying to take in the drastic expansion of his senses.

Asgore can see…EVERYTHING. He can see the universe, from the largest constellation to the smallest particle. Time and space fit like clay into his hands. No, not hands. Physical forms mean little. Conventional universal laws meant little.

Trying as hard as he can to hold back the barrage on his senses and consciousness, the king of monsters reaches out, and with all the care a god can muster, harnesses the souls of his people. Another final burst of might, one that wrenches open his perspective to all that there is, and-

There is darkness everywhere. But somehow there is sight. He realizes that he can- see, he muses, is not the right way to understand it- sense, on a fundamental level the nature of the multiverse. And what he sees is a cancer.

Time is a mess. A convoluted ball of yarn whose tendrils stretch across every universe. The material part of his mind can only perceive it as such. Ugly red scars that have chipped away at the foundations of everything, and yet comparatively this damage is minuscule. There are infinite worlds, so these scars are hardly dangerous to reality as a whole. It is when he examines other sets of universes that he realizes that it is only _his_ multiverse that has damage to this extent.

The souls, within him, are whispering. He cannot quite decipher what they are saying. They seem to be warnings, as if to show this wound was the intent of the souls. Even in this form, there seems to be nothing he can do.

Oh. Suddenly remembering his task, he forces his perspective to focus on the barrier. It is like funneling a river through a pinhole. He reaches out, and suddenly the magic prison falls away.

All at once, the souls leave his body. Asgore is drowning, facing whiplash as he is forced back into the here and now. As the souls dissipate, the rainbow burst of energy seems to be emanating… forgiveness? Tears build up.

“I… I am sorry.” A note of resolution enters his voice, as if he is bidding an old friend goodbye. And then they are gone.

He has done what he set out to do, from the very beginning. Absorbed the souls, broken the barrier, freed his people from the Underground.

He has never felt more forlorn.

 

There is a crack in the distance.

“That must be the barrier. It’s gone. Again.” Undyne mutters, her eye staring into the distance. Toriel says nothing. Papyrus has had to deal with this sort of dynamic for the past hour.

From their path in Waterfall, they can see the castle in exquisite detail. He feels a little better now that the barrier is down. But it really can’t dispel a dread that has settled into his bones.

 “Let’s keep moving.” Undyne says, before trudging off. “Better that we find Frisk sooner than later.” Toriel hesitantly follows, leaving him to bring up the rear. He’s not exactly the most perceptive person, he knows, but it seems that tensions are at a tipping point between Undyne and the queen.

He…he understands why. The actions of the human had called much about what he had previously learned about them into question. He liked to assume he was a good judge of character. After all, the Great Papyrus would never befriend someone who would do their friends harm!

Perhaps the Great Papyrus, he reflects as he jogs after his friends, wasn’t so great after all. To be back Underground was…frightening. He feels lost, and sad, and hurt. This mix of feelings was confusing, and the more he thinks about it, the worse he feels. So he elects to not think about it as much as possible.

Unfortunately, his friends were making it difficult.

“Stupid, stupid, dumb, idiot!” He could hear a stream of insults under Undyne’s breath. All directed at herself.

“UNDYNE…I DON’T THING CALLING YOURSELF THOSE THINGS WILL-

“Will what, Papyrus? They’re all accurate. I trusted the kid, we all did, and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED, DAMNIT! We get betrayed by-”

“ENOUGH!” He whirls his head around to see Toriel snarling, fire encasing each paw.

“We cannot assume that any of this was intentional! Do not be so quick to aggression!”

Undyne rolls her eye, throwing her hands up in a fit of exasperation.

“And you’re naïve to assume the best! All that generosity, all that time spent together means nothing now! Sweet, innocent Frisk has SCREWED. US. OVER!”

The queen grits her teeth, and fireballs erupt in a swirling ring behind her. He needs to do something now.

“NOW, FIGHTING WON’T SOLVE AN-”

“The arrogance of your warrior mind to think that you can claim to know another’s motivation!”

A cyan spear appears in Undyne’s hand, its end pointed at the goat-monster.

“Nyaghh! My arrogance?!? Take a look at yourself Tori!”

“FRIENDS-”

“How dare you! I was their mother!”

“PLEASE!”

“And look how well that turned out!”

“I will NOT be subject to-“

He sighs, and raises his hand. A wall of bones suddenly shoots up between the two monsters, surprise causing the summoned weapons to dissipate. This is ridiculous! Friends shouldn’t fight! Even in such a contentious moment, they needed to band together!

“WE CAN’T FIGHT EACH OTHER! EVEN IF WE DISAGREE, A BRAWL WON’T SOLVE THIS!”

Something flares in Undyne’s eye, a fierce burst of energy, before dying out. A collective breath is taken. The bones slide into the ground.

“Sorry to upset you, Paps.” Comes out under the fish-monster’s breath, with a hurriedly added “and you too, Tori” tacked on at the end.

 “Yes. I apologize for escalation of the conflict, as well as for my unkind words.” Toriel says, although the glare in her eyes only lets up slightly. Papyrus finds himself smiling. A successful conflict de-escalation! And if he’s ignoring what was said, well, that’s to his benefit.

“WOWIE! THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP PREVAILS AGAIN.”

The three of them start off again, adopting a slower pace. The awkward silence, he thinks, is okay, because they feel bad for what just happened. This will just inspire them to be better friends in the end, he knows it!

He allows himself to mull over friendship. A small part of him notes that he’s trying to distract himself from thinking about what they’d due if they found Frisk.

Papyrus is grateful for the distraction.

 

 

The True Lab is like something out of a horror movie. Not that Alphys has watched too many of those, seeing as the Surface’s overabundance of anime meant she hardly watched anything else. But general knowledge of that genre is recontextualizing how she interprets this already miserable place.

She’s working with minimal light. Only a dim florescent light above and the blue glow of the welding torch illuminate the room she’s in. After all, the DT extractor needed all the power it could get. This lack of light means she half-expects an Amalgamate to leap out at her, even if she knows that they’re all being escorted by their families back to their homes. Well, minus the Memoryheads, who’d disappeared off to who-knows-where. But still. Her fear is unwarranted.

Maybe it’s just the dread of what she’s doing that’s getting to her. Using a machine that had caused so much misery, to both her and others. Well, she was causing the misery. It was all her fault, after-

“Shut up, Alphys! F-focus.” Great. Now she’s talking to herself.

She shakes her head, as if to clear out the deprecatory thought, and continues to work. The welding goggles are uncomfortable, clearly being designed to fit another monster’s face, but it's hardly her most pressing issue. Just a few more wires to solder to the circuit board.

Maybe it’s that she’s about to apply a torturous procedure to someone who brought her out of a suicidal depression. To someone who helped her reveal herself to Undyne- _god_ , does she miss Undyne right now. To a person who for five years was the most benevolent, kindhearted, peaceful, and considerate being she’s possibly ever known.

Maybe, she thinks as she carefully screws a transmitter in, this is all a big misunderstanding. Frisk used this “reset” power accidentally. It’s just a simple mistake. They’d all talk it out, and while some feelings would be hurt, they’d move on eventually.

“Alphys, darling! Are you alright?” Mettaton’s rectangular frame rolls into the room, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.

“J-jeez! I’m fine, just s-stressed out.”

“You staring at the completed product. It looks like you’ve finished, but perhaps you should take a bit of a break?”

With a start, she realizes that she’s done. The DT drainer was inconspicuous, a small grey piece of metal shaped like a broken heart. Once they had run Frisk through the extractor, this would be clipped around their soul. Excess DETERMINATION would be funneled via dimensional tech to a container deep within her lab that used to store water.

There are so many issues with this plan. They have no idea how quickly Frisk will regenerate DETERMINATION, and thus don’t know when she’ll run out of storage. They don’t know if some other individual will be determined enough to “inherit” the ability to reset, although Sans had assured her that he had that particular issue covered. And this is all assuming Frisk won’t…murder…any of them.

She knows enough to figure out that previous “runs” had been much less peaceful. Vague nightmares, odd sensations, a little bit of messed up déjà vu. In the short time she’s had to talk to Sans, who seems to know way more than he’s letting on, Alphys has been able to discern that previous timelines were far from pleasant. Unfortunately, this might be the best plan on account of it being the only plan.

“Dear you’re staring again.” The robotic voice cuts through her thoughts.

“S-sorry. Has the extractor b-been prepared?”

“It’ll be ready for the human.”

She fidgets a little. Mettaton notices, and she can feel a metallic arm wrap around her shoulders.

“I think you need to take a break. Why don’t you lie down for a bit?” He begins to slowly roll away, forcing her into a slow walk.

“Even if you feel terrible, that’s fine. Lying down and feeling like trash is a family tradition!”

She lets out a giggle, then reaches out to grab the drainer before allowing herself to be guided out of the room.

She’s frantic and tired and just wants to be in her girlfriend’s arms and away from this horrid place. But there’s a job to do. One to ensure that their happiness can hopefully be maintained.

Alphys lies down and hopes sleep will bring dreams happier than reality.

 

Flowey has seen every inch of the Underground. A couple of thousand resets will do that to you. Yet manually searching across it manages to be so _fucking tedious_.

He surfaces near the entrance of Waterfall, where a frosty mist shrouds the area. Nothing. No sign of life. Most of the other monsters had just stayed in their homes, whining and crying like the pathetic whelp they were. God, where the timelines where he slaughtered them all?

He burrows again. Stupid, _stupid_ smiley trash bag. He’d overheard their plan to stop the resets, and he’s got to say, it’s surprisingly good. A lot more devious than he thought was capable of that group of idiots. He just needs to get to Frisk first.

Five years. It made so little sense. It seemed arbitrary for a reset date. Why not two years? Or ten? A couple of hours? This was hardly the first time they’d reached the Surface, he’s sure. He has no idea how many times he’s asked Frisk not to reset. What made it all different?

He pops up near the skeleton brother’s house, and looks around Snowdin. There are a few lights on in some of the buildings closer to town square, but for the most part, black windows as far as he can see. Back underground he goes.

None of this made any sense, really. Then again…there was always…

CHARA.

He shivers instinctively, disrupting his tunneling. The first human’s influence on Frisk complicated things. How much of their actions were their own, and how much of it was Chara?

He pops up in the field of snow poffs. The lumbering oaf that usually stands guard is nowhere to be seen.

Asriel could never get a clear reading on Chara. They alternated between ecstatic and depressed, horribly selfish and overly generous, extremely duplicitous and harsh honesty. Their character was as inconsistent as the stories they told about life on the surface.

Flowey understands it now, he thinks. Because the cruelest people are always the most damaged.

Hah! Oh wow, does he sound like a cliché moron. A sardonic giggle escapes from his mouth as he burrows again.

The “genocide runs,” as the melodramatic trash bag liked to call them, were explainable at least. Even if he remembers cowering before them, bawling and pleading for his life. The sadistic half grin that beamed down at him, as he stared into the cold red eyes of the only one who understood. The twitches of their finger around the knife, coated with the dust of the father he’d just killed. The way their mouth morphed into a toothy smile as they raised the knife above him.

He gets that. He was weak and pathetic. He needed to be stronger for them. “Kill or be killed” was the goddamn rule, not “kill or cower.” He ruined everything. But… he remembers being Asriel. For just a couple of minutes, he was what he was before. And the burning coal of shame and regret he’d felt in those moments had carried over with those memories. His head’s a mess of contradictory feelings, and he notes the irony of being confused about Chara for the same damn thing.

Whatever. This is the problem with being sentimental, with becoming _attached_. He had no soul, at least, so the pure emotion doesn’t all carry over. The same, he reflects as he pops out of the ground, couldn’t be said for the maelstrom of thoughts.

He finds himself in one of the creepier areas of the forest, where Gyftrot usually hung out. The fireflies that lived in the crevices of the walls gave of the illusion of a horde of eyes staring at any bystander who happened to walk past.

He peers down the mysterious hall, to that impossible-to-breach door, and it’s closed as per usual. He’s not sure where the antlered loser went, but everything else looks fine…

Wait.

They’d be easy to miss. Leaning against the grey stone wall, legs dangling off the edge. Mostly shielded by the entrance to the tunnel, with just a small bit of the faded blue sweater poking out, a purple stripe winding itself around the fabric. He stretches his head out on a vine, inching closer and closer to the human’s form.

“Azzy…”

He jerks back. He needs to find Sans. Now. Floppy brown hair is in view, as Chara begins to turn their head towards him. There’s the subtlest glint of red, beneath the curtain of hair, and that’s all he needs to immediately shove himself under the soil.

Shit shit shit shit _shit_!

As he pushes through the ground as fast as he can, he can just barely hear what they say next.

“Don’t worry…I’m not going ANYWHERE.”

 

 

So maybe he was napping when Flowey explodes out of the ground, with a desperation in his eyes that can only mean one thing.

“you-” he lets out a yawn, “find the kid?”

“No, I’m here to listen to your jokes. OF COURSE I found Fri-the human.”

“aw. and here i’d thought you’d _leaf_ me alone for awhile.”

Flowey rolls his eyes. Hey, can’t win them all.

“Just shut up. They’re near the weird door on Snowdin Forest.”

“the one with the dog in it?”

“What are you-"

“never mind. grab on to my arm. just a fair warning, you ain’t gonna like this if you’ve got a weak _stomata_.”

“I don’t even have a stomach to begin with, you-”

Before the flower can even finish the insult, he’s grabbed his stem and used a shortcut. The blackness of the void swirls around them, and he spares a moment to look down at Flowey’s mortified face. A flash of blue, and he can feel his slippers crunch in the snow. Flowey looks like he’s going to be sick, stomach or no, and flings himself to the ground.

“I will _never_ do that again, trash-bag.” The plant spits out, as he implants himself into the ground. Sans ignores him, and looks to his left to see-

“ah shit.” His eyes go dark as the face of Frisk stares back.

“What’s the matter, _Sans_?” They say his name like it’s a dirty word, and a devious smile creeps its way onto their face.

“nothing much.” He lets his pupils reappear. “just looking at out for an interesting _chara_ -cter.”

Their face twitches a little, enough to reveal the crimson in their eyes.

“Now that’s a shame. This would have been so much more interesting if you thought I was Frisk.”

“well-”

“ _Shut up!_ ” The thing wear Frisk’s body spits out. “I knew you’d find me eventually, and I know you want answers. I can’t give those with your incessant need to be a comedian!”

He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, rubbing his jaw for a few awkward seconds before sitting himself down. He crosses his legs, than leans forward a little.

“go ahead. but any funny business, and you know what you’ll get.”

Chara laughs, a throaty, guttural, and thoroughly unpleasant sound, and turns a little to face him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Flowey behind him, trying to listen without being seen.

“Do you know how many timelines there are?”

“a lot.”

“Crude, but correct. There’s an infinity of possibilities. Far more than any one being can comprehend. But groups of universes clump together, due to having base similarities.”

He knows all of this, having read some of the research in his lab. He really has no idea where this is going, but if he can distract them long enough to get answers before knocking them out, then he’ll have to wait and see.

“Do you know how many times I reset in my original timeline? Over six thousand resets. I hardly cared for that world. But it presented such _interesting possibilities_ that I couldn’t possibly stop experimenting until I had all of the results.”

They pause, and Sans’ head reels to understand. OK, so Chara wasn’t even from this universe. They came from another. This doesn’t explain anything, really, but it causes a litany of questions to form in his mind.

“After that? Well, there was nothing left to do. I’d killed them all, on the Surface and in the Underground in every way and combination I could think of. So when that Frisk offered their soul up for another reset, I just took it, and left them in the desolate husk of an ended timeline. And then I found another.”

Oh. He can see where this is going, but is careful not to let any expression show on his face.

“what’d you do next?”

“Well, I was so confused at first. Here I was, in what looked like the exact same timeline all over again. The Ruins were identical. It was when I saw _you_ that I realized there was something different. Only one difference though, a very small one. You had a purple sweatshirt, instead of a blue one.”

“not really my color, but i won’t throw _shade_.” Chara rolls their eyes, corner of their lip raised in a snarl.

“I ended that one too. And kept going. Do you know how many iterations I found? How many worlds to play with?”

They lean in, and Sans is stock-still as their voice takes on a dark yet animated quality.

“I ended a world where hate and rage had twisted the Underground into a black specter of what is was. Or a world where Asgore greeted me in the Ruins, and Toriel was the miserable queen. There was one where this all was in space, and another where it was _humans_ trapped in the Underground.”

He can feel a bead of sweat running down his skull, and his ever-present smile falters. He can’t even wrap his head around how many timelines are gone, how many trillions have died for every universe ended by this sadistic creature. Chara doesn’t notice. They’re too caught up in their story.

“In one memorable incidence, I possessed yet another Frisk and massacred my way to the Last Corridor. I found _myself_ , in an idiotic hoodie, passing judgement! Oh, how I wanted to laugh! That was a particularly entertaining fight.”

Chara’s smile becomes almost genuine. “There were a unique bundle of worlds where through some moronic twist of fate, I had formed an…attachment to Frisk. It was particularly delicious, to watch the hurt in their eyes as I masqueraded as a friend, a confidant, a lover, than _butchered them_ all the same!”

They stand up suddenly, and Sans leans back, startled. He prepares an attack, just in case.

“All those Charas. Some like me, others too soft. All lacked the vision I did! None could get past their own universes! I ended each of them.” They take a forceful step forward, and Sans is on his feet in an instant. His sockets grow dark again. Hopefully a warning might delay this brawl.

“When I came to this universe, I was surprised. I dispatched this version of myself handily, but there was no difference between my original universe and this one. I went dormant, allowing a final happy ending. Eventually, however, I noticed a slight difference. A small, exploitable inconsistency in the physics governing time.”

“so you reset. and we all remembered ‘cause of some glitch in the universe.”

“Your misery was wonderful! Frisk’s was too, when I hijacked their soul. And to think, of how what I’ve told you will only make you feel worse before I kill you and end yet another world!”

He instinctively grabs their soul with his magic, levitating them several feet above the ground as his eye flares blue and yellow.

“F-uck.” Flowey mutter behind him, and yeah, for once he and the flower are on the same page. He’s completely over his head here, but he needs to ask something.

“kid… why? why go through all this just to end it all so many times?”

Chara leers down at him.

“I have your little speech memorized, and I think your words say it best:” They lower their voice in a mockery of him. “I know your type. You're, uh, very determined, aren't you? You'll never give up, even if there's, uh... absolutely NO benefit to persevering whatsoever. If I can make that clear. No matter what, you'll just keep going. Not out of any desire for good or evil... but just because you think you can. and because you ‘can’... ... you ‘have to.’”

Sans winces. That stupid script, the schpiel he'd probably recited a thousand times over.

Chara cackles a little. "And I'm sure you have an  _adorable_ plan to rescue poor Frisk." The edge of their lips creep up into an even wider smile, eyes nearly bulging out of their head. A black, viscous slime oozes out of their eyes, and honestly he has no idea if tainted soul magic or the sheer derangement of Chara is causing this. 

"Guess what?" Chara spits out, sadistic glee building in their eyes, "Frisk is GONE!"

 _What_.

No. No, that's not- it can't be. He sharply inhales, so shocked that his magic stutters and Chara dips a few feet in the air. Behind him, Flowey is muttering a string of curses.

They giggle. "This is why. Your misery is such a lovely sight. Beyond that..." they shake their head in a slow, deliberate way.

“You said it best, Sans. I keep going because I CAN!”

A red blade appears out of nowhere, and they hurl it at him faster than he can react. Suddenly, a vine shoots up and knocks the knife out of the air.

“thanks, pal. but we better put the _petal_ to the metal, dontcha think?” he says, voice strained. Flowey scoffs, voice trembling, but more vines shoot up and wrap around Chara, restraining them in a green cocoon.

Their mouth is covered, but they glare at Sans, in a way that suggests if he’s not quick, he won’t live much longer.

“i talked a lot about giving up. and yeah. in those moments, i had. but living on the surface for a while taught me a little bit. that there’s something worth fighting for, besides just opposing you. even if the kiddo is dead... i still got a whole family to fight for.”

He lets out a little sigh. “anyway, we got a way to fix some of this. sorry, pal, but your plans are over.”

A single bone flies up from the ground, hitting them dead center of their forehead. Chara’s head reels back, then lolls down with half-open eyes and a large cut across their face. He lets go of their soul, and they flop to the ground in a cushion of vines.

“go get alphys. tell her what happend. i’ll keep watch,” he says, turning to Flowey. The tendrils disappear into the ground, as does the flower, but not before he gives Sans a look full of nervousness.

Heh. He’s nervous as hell too. Nothing he can do but have patience, though. He jerks his hand up, and a cage of bones forms around the knocked-out human.

His head is in chaos. Every bone in his skeletal body is trembling. There are too many things to deal with. Frisk is probably dead, he’s standing next to a murderer on a scale he can barely fathom, and he’s trusting Flowey to do the right thing. He doesn’t let this inner turmoil show. Just takes another breath, and slowly exhales.

Sans the skeleton stands there, letting the cold wind rush through his skull, and waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I know my choices with how to portray Chara are divisive. This is just how I view them. Sorry. Writing from Papyrus' perspective was rough, a sentiment I actually found expressed a lot in other's works. I'll leave a list of the AUs referenced at the end. Anyway, I sort of like the way this came out. Might do a third and final chapter, but we'll see. I have a lot planned over the summer, both real life and in regards to my work. I going to wrap up War of Roses, I have a few one-shots planned, and a possible series in the works that I'm messing around with. So stay tuned!
> 
> AUs referenced:  
> Underfell: https://underfell.tumblr.com/  
> Underswap: I looked for a bit, and it seems the creator's tumblr is down. If anyone has another link them, please tell me.  
> Outertale: 2mi127, although their tumblr is also down.  
> Detour: https://www.deviantart.com/maxx2dxtreame  
> Storyshift: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoltraTheLively/pseuds/VoltraTheLively  
> The last thing mentioned in the Chara/Frisk ship, which I don't know how to credit, but I guess this person since they wrote the first Charisk fic on this site: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamary/pseuds/Kamary

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. I might do a follow-up piece to this. MAYBE. Also honestly I don't think Toriel and Asgore would get back together. Nor do I endorse any non-canon ships. Sorry folks.


End file.
